I visited an elderly woman in the hospital the other day. She was quite talkative and we chatted for some time. She was in her mid-eighties and aware of her early stages of dementia. The conversation was entirely intelligible and she was very quick with a good sense of humour. But for a brief moment in the midst of that conversation she transitioned and I cannot remember exactly how it started but I will paraphrase from what I remember,
I have buried my parents once already. But I see them at distance. I can recognize them but they never come to me. Mother, she never danced but now she dances. Father, I don’t know, I think he is looking for his second wife. . . . My husband, before he passed, told me that better times were coming. I’m still waiting [looks at me and smiles].